First Impressions
by ParadoxicalOne
Summary: [GSR] How Sara and Grissom met and leading up to how Sara feels after a year and a half in Vegas. A little backstory added with references up into season 5.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer_: I would have a major claim to fame if I owned _CSI_, but I'm nobody famous. Instead, I'll sit in my humble abode and pretend by writing for these characters what TPTB has decided not to tell us. _CSI_ belongs to CBS...

* * *

**A/N –** I thought of this a long time ago, but just never put it into words. The thing about Sara's badge always bothered me (you'll understand later... I think), and I don't know if anyone has ever tried to explain it, but I just did it for myself. There are references to many of the episodes up through season 5 that lend to back story, but this story ends just after 2x12 _You've Got Male_.

* * *

First Impressions

* * *

Yawning tiredly, the twenty-four year-old, leggy brunette staggered from her car and up to her apartment door. _Thank God I live on the first floor. I'm too tired to walk up a flight of steps_, she thought, _How am I going to make it through a lecture today?_ She fumbled with her keys for a moment. Her resolve was almost slipping as she thought of the lecture.

She threw her purse and keys on the coffee table. Sighing resignedly, she started disrobing quickly and strode into the bathroom. Absentmindedly, she started the shower water to get it to a tolerable temperature. Leaving the bathroom, she finished undressing while on the way to the bedroom.

Longingly looking at the bed, she felt her resolve slipping again. There would be no time to sleep after the lecture. For once, she cursed the fact that she worked the evening shift. It worked out perfectly for auditing lectures except when she ran into doubles like she had been for the past week. Doubles were a killer on any shift, but working from four to midnight makes it increasingly harder to get away. No one expects someone to have anywhere to go in the middle of the night.

The bed would have to wait, she decided. It would make for a really long shift, but hopefully, there would not be another double on her plate. She was known for her ability to run on a little or no sleep, but she was only human. At some point, everyone had a stopping point. Hopefully the chilly air of the upcoming winter would keep enough cool air around her to hold off the tiredness until she was able to put a few hours together to take a much-needed nap.

One last look at her bed, and she went to the closet hastily pulling clothes out that would have to be sufficient for the lecture. It was just a forensic lecture, after all. There was not one single reason to get dressed up. The clothes would also serve for her to work in, but there was no real dress code at work as long as she was presentable.

_Only got a few minutes to get to the campus. Get it moving, girl_, she chided herself. She strode back to the shower and quickly scoured off the grime from the evening with corpses and killers and rapists. Sometimes, she mused about working at a fast food restaurant and coming home smelling like grease or hamburgers. It had to be better than the smell of rotting flesh.

She dressed in nothing flat, as was expected in the line of work. She had learned a long time ago that in order to be successful that she had to be prepared for anything and everything that could happen and be ready to move in a moment's notice. Haste may make waste in the outside world, but to a Crime Scene Investigator, it was waste that made the haste. Time was always of the essence.

The drive to the college campus was quick. Sometimes it was a curse to live so close with all the college kids roaming around, but today it a blessing. She was glad not to have to drive so far from her apartment. Any other day she may have walked the couple of miles, but there was neither the time nor the energy available for the small luxury.

_Damn it. I'm late_, she cursed herself. It was only five minutes, but her pride still hurt. She valued herself by always being on time, if not early. She hoped it was not one of those typical arrogant professors who would berate people for being late, and she could just slip in quietly with her dignity still intact. Maybe there would be a seat in the back row. It was not her typical choice, but there was not much room to quibble right then.

The door was shut. Not one to be put off by that, she opened the door and walked in. The lecturer was standing at the dry erase board in the front of the room writing something in Latin. She took it as her chance to sneak in. Looking around the room, she spotted a couple of lone chairs in the front of the room.

This was going to prove to be a little more difficult, but it would have to be done. Her long legs carried her quickly to the desk. At first glance, it almost appeared as if she had made it unnoticed. Almost being the operative word. The instructor's hand stilled on the board.

"And you are?" he asked without turning around. His voice was light, yet demanding, at he completed the word on the board.

The brunette glanced around her. _He can't be talking to me, can he? He's got to be talking to someone else... I hope,_ she thought. Her eyes scanned the room quickly, only to see that every eye was on her. She glanced back up in front of her at the man leading the room.

He spun on his heels. "I believe I asked you a question," he growled. His eyes met hers in a deadly glare. It was a clashing of the wills as their blue and brown eyes collided in a fiery gaze.

She furrowed her eyebrows and snorted lightly. There's no way she was announcing herself to the rest of the room. She may be late, but she would rather be kicked out than tell everyone who she was. Anonymity had always been her friend. Just who did this conceited jerk think he was to demand her name?

"I don't believe you need my name unless the rest of the room is going to introduce themselves as well," she retorted haughtily. She set her face to stone as she stared back at him. Two could play this game.

"If someone is going to make a mockery of my lecture, I would at least like to be offered the courtesy to know who they are," he replied flatly, never averting his eyes from hers.

This man truly was indecipherable. His voice, his face, and his body language were all empty and unreadable. Her first impression of him was leaving a serious distaste on her palate. He could only be described as frigid.

The sleepy part of her gave in. She just wanted the lecture to start so she could immerse herself in it. Her voice came out more soft than she anticipated as she stated, "I'm sorry to have given you that impression. It was not my intention at all. I was just running a bit behind from work this morning, and I mean no disrespect." She flashed a small smile at the end hoping to warm him up a little, and maybe get him off her case.

"Apology accepted – this time. I would suggest that you not allow this to happen again for the remainder of the lectures this week... because _I_ will not allow it to happen again." He pursed his lips and tilted his head slightly at her, almost challenging her to say something else.

There were a few slight wisps of grey in his hair that gave him more of an authoritative tone and softened him at the same time. It gave him a distinguished air that held her gaze almost as much as his eyes. He looked handsome and menacing at exactly the same moment. How could one man be so contradictory?

She bit back her reply. He was treating her like a child, but it was no use arguing. She wanted and needed the lecture. Her mind was open to any knowledge she could get her hands on, and forensics called for being continually updated. That, and there was something about this man. She could not keep herself from staring into those eyes.

* * *

He dismissed the class with a few parting thoughts about making sure they were prepared for the class the next day. He had eyed the late brunette specifically when he had said it. He would not tolerate her interrupting the class again, no matter how intriguing she was.

Lunchtime had come and gone. The brunette had actually come back after lunch. That was the first time that anyone had ever done that after one of his intimidating speeches to anyone who arrived late. He must be slipping and would have to kick it up a notch next time.

She had yawned a lot, and it had been excruciatingly distracting at first. He had to give her credit for trying to hide it, however. She had stayed awake and even taken notes, something that a he found he could not say for some of the other class participants. Her incessant questions about that subject matter had also bothered him at first. That was until he realized she was that hungry for knowledge and was actually absorbing the material.

To say that he was impressed would have been an understatement. There was something about this young woman that captured his attention. He busied himself putting his papers away in his briefcase, contemplating what he was going to do for dinner. That was until he heard a voice from behind him.

"Sara Sidle," she stated firmly.

There was a name to go with that throaty voice and hauntingly beautiful brunette from earlier. He turned around with an amused smile on his lips. This woman never did cease to amaze him. Anyone else would have run out of the room after class. Instead, this woman – no, _girl_ – chose to confront him. Was she afraid of anything?

"Gil Grissom," he replied, holding out a hand to her.

He watched as she smiled broadly back at him and reached out to take his hand. Her handshake was firm and soft at the same time. "I wanted to apologize for real this time, and to tell you that I truly enjoyed the first day of the lecture. I look forward to the rest of the week."

He looked at her quizzically for a moment. "For _real_ this time?" he asked as he reluctantly released her hand.

"I wasn't exactly being sincere earlier. I didn't want to get into a battle in front of the entire class. And, I really wanted to hear the lecture. So, getting kicked out wasn't something I wanted to happen either. I was—am tired, and I may have acted like an ass earlier." Sara rolled her eyes at herself, realizing the speed at which she could use words to make herself appear to be a total fool. Her mouth had often acted before her brain had time to censor what she was thinking, but more in anger than in useless excuses.

"I hope you're not like that to your usual professors here." He tried to soften his tone from the almost condescending, but it still came out snippy.

Sara made no move to correct his assumption that she was still in college. It really was none of his business that she already had her master's degree and a well-respected job at the San Francisco Crime Lab. She was merely here to learn, and he was here to teach.

"Well, I've got to get to work. It really was a pleasure," she said sincerely.

He narrowed his eyes. "I thought you came from work this morning." His tone held a note of disbelief. He was trained to spot these little inconsistencies, after all.

"No rest for the weary, unfortunately. I pulled a double," she admitted, "I generally work the evenings... It gives me time to use daylight to my advantage, and still sleep when normal people do." Sara's eyes widened into an almost shock-like state. "I—I've gotta go," she stammered.

Her usual confidence had just shattered before her very own eyes. Sara rolled her eyes at herself again as she spun and nearly sprinted for the door. For some reason her mouth had found that time to start spouting anything that sprang into her brain. It really was something that had never happened before and would give her something to ponder later.

A very confused Gil Grissom was left standing in her wake. He watched her leave and stared at the empty door for a few minutes before he was able to regain his thoughts. He picked up his briefcase and shook his head. Grissom had a feeling it was going to be an extremely interesting week with her attending his lecture.

* * *

Food was forgone in lieu of a one-hour nap in her car in the parking lot of the SFPD Crime Lab. There would be time to eat later that evening if everything went well. At this point, her body needed a little recharging, however short it was.

Sara's cell phone alarm buzzed, jolting her awake in an instant. Groggy from just waking up, she had to fight the instinct to answer it, thinking it was a call. She rubbed her eyes furiously with the palms of her hands. She had just enough time to get inside and grab a cup of coffee before assignments were handed out.

"Sidle, you've got a DB. Here's your assignment. Don't waste time getting there," her supervisor ordered, thrusting a paper into her hand, "All the info you need is on there."

He walked away without further conversation. _Hello to you, too_, she thought, _I didn't even get a cup of coffee, yet._ She listened to her supervisor walking away talking on his cell phone to someone asking for some consultation and promising a favor in return.

Sara blinked the sleep from her eyes and walked to the coffee pot, grabbing a cup to go. It could not be dismissed as easily as the food was. Coffee was an essential to staying up at this point in her life. That dead body would have to wait for a few minutes longer. _Not like the DB is going anywhere_, she mused.

* * *

Sara arrived at the scene as quickly as she could. Hauling her kit out in an exasperated manner, she took in the scene. No partner tonight, she realized. It would make for a better night that way – no need to entertain anyone else. She decided she was in no mood for conversation anyway.

She talked with the officer securing the scene and found the body. The coroner was kneeling over the body when she walked up. She gave him a once over, not really looking at the body itself just yet. She left him to examine the body while she took in the rest of the scene. She would get her chance to inspect at the body as soon as he was done. There was no use in crowding him.

"Hey, Chuck, how're you doing?" She asked lightly, laying her hand on his shoulder in greeting.

"Better than this poor bastard," he quipped sarcastically. "Although, his bad day started a while back. I can't give you an accurate TOD."

"You will once you get back him back to the morgue," she stated flatly, assuming he was just speaking of an immediate answer. Sara's mind was elsewhere trying to read the rest of the scene and look for anything that would lead to a killer.

"No, no. I won't be able to give you a definitive TOD. I'll have to leave that up to someone that knows something more about these little guys." He indicated towards the body with a wave of his hand as if Sara was watching him.

She turned her head to look at him, and then down at the body in front of his knees. There was something off about the body. Sara focused her eyes on it while walking a few steps closer. She squinted her eyes and smirked.

"Cool. Bugs. Bonus! I get to put some of my new knowledge to work tonight." She knelt down beside the body, shoulder to shoulder with the ME. Sara placed her hand on his knee for a little light support as she bent in for a closer inspection.

Her emphatic reply would have made the ME worry a little about her mental state if he had not already known her for a few years. He just looked over at her a little wearily and shook his head. Sometimes she enjoyed her work a little too much.

An officer called over to her, "Hey, Sara! I'm sending a guy your way. Harrison sent him to help you with the collection tonight."

Sara did not even bother to acknowledge the remark. It was not like she could do anything about it anyway. Her supervisor, Ben Harrison, could really be inconsiderate sometimes. He sent her out to the dead body without telling her that he was sending her someone to help. Now she was going to have to entertain someone – probably a rookie. This was definitely going to require more coffee.

The man walking up to her was a little cautious. It was not a vacation he was on, but he certainly had not expected to be called to a crime scene. It was to be expected in his field of expertise, however, and he was a workaholic. So, he was looking forward to working the scene. On top of that, he would be owed a favor in San Francisco that he could call on in a time of need.

Grissom continued walking down the little walkway that he was directed towards the body. The officer had directed him to a woman named Sara. He hoped this one was a little nicer but just as good looking as the last one. She had a temper, he could tell. But those eyes... He forced himself to stop thinking about a woman and focus on the scene – that was why he was called.

Hearing footsteps coming up behind them, Sara stood and turned around abruptly. She almost tripped backwards as she came face to face with her lecturing entomologist. His blue eyes bored into hers as they stared each other down. Head to toe, each of them gave the other a once over.

The ME turned slightly, calling over his shoulder before getting to his feet. "Hey, Gil. Good to see you again. What's it been? Three... four years?"

Grissom hesitantly tore his eyes from Sara to look at the coroner. "Well, hello, Chuck. And, no, it's been more like five years. How fast time flies when you find another entomologist to do your dirty work." He smirked at the addition of the last statement.

"Ah, don't be bitter. You know they don't compare to you, they're just cheaper," Chuck replied sarcastically with a little raise of the eyebrows. "But, you might have some competition on your hands. Our resident physics expert has decided to take an interest in bugs." He glanced sideways at Sara, who had remained quietly absorbing the conversation thus far.

"Oh, really?" Grissom smirked again and glanced at Sara himself. He tipped his head to the side slightly. "Someone thinks they know a lot about the insect population, huh?" He was deliberately baiting her with his light tone.

"Oh," Sara replied, finally able to close her gaping mouth and make words, "I know enough to get by."

The ME felt a little tension. He watched Sara and Grissom eyeing each other. Not being a trained or astute investigator, he assumed it was because the two had not yet been introduced. He gestured towards Sara, saying, "Where are my manners? Gil, this is—"

"We've already met," Grissom interrupted. "It's nice to see you again, Sara Sidle."

"Ah, well... um... I'll leave you two to the body, then. Let the boys know when they can take it away." With that, he was brushing past them.

"You didn't tell me you were a CSI," Grissom accused her once they were alone. He kept his tone light and playful.

Sara smirked. "You didn't ask," she countered.

Grissom pursed his lips into a line. "Fair enough. What else don't I know about you?"

"Oh, a lot of things," she toyed with him. Sara flashed him her famous wide smile before turning back to the body.

Grissom winced a little. If she smiled like that at him more often, he might just fall prey to her feminine wiles. She had a mouth on her, that much was evident. He had seen it earlier, but now it was in full bloom. Sass, intelligence, and beauty all wound up in a package was both deliciously and dangerously inviting.

"Body's not getting younger, Grissom. You're the bug guy. So, you might want to get over here and harvest these little critters soon," Sara called over her shoulder while she was picking up some fibers off the body.

Sara was not only inviting, but distracting. Grissom could plainly see he was going to have to force himself to concentrate while he was around her. He shook his head as if that would help him free his thoughts of her and knelt down at her side.

"I don't have my k—"

Sara was already in the process of handing him a jar along with a pair of latex gloves. "I have everything you need," she cooed lightly.

Not missing a beat, Grissom winked at her. "I bet you do."

The next few hours went along the same lines. Grissom helped Sara process the scene in its entirety. Each anticipated the other's move almost before they made it. It was the perfect harmony. Sara, like Grissom, had never worked with someone so fluidly. They each, though either would be loathe to admit it, thought how hard it was to work with people sometimes.

* * *

"Hey, Grissom, you going to stay here all night?" Sara asked of him, walking into the layout room. She raised an eyebrow as if that would enforce her question a little more.

"The life of an entomologist is boring. Someone has to watch these little guys mature." He barely looked up from his journal he was jotting notes in.

Sara plopped a bag down on the counter. "Hungry? I'm quite sure you've yet to eat, since I know I haven't."

Grissom peered up over the journal and stared at her. He had known her less than twenty-four hours, and here she was bringing him food. They were almost complete strangers who got off to a very rocky start when they first met. Sara Sidle was one puzzle that he was sure would be intriguing to figure out.

"How do you know I'm going to like it?" he asked with a lift in his voice.

Sara frowned at him playfully. "A turkey sandwich is hardly something that most people find offensive. So, unless you're allergic to wheat bread, turkey, tomato, lettuce, or mayonnaise, eat up."

"What if I'm a vegetarian?" he asked, toying with her.

"You're not. I'm trained to spot the clues. I saw you eating a club sandwich for lunch today in the lunchroom. Anyway, it most often takes a woman to make a man a vegetarian." She swatted him playfully on the arm and slid one of the sandwiches over towards him. "Free food. Eat it."

It was Grissom's turn to frown. "And you know I don't have a woman to turn me into a vegetarian how?"

"I'm an investigator, and a damn fine one at that. You may not think highly of a CSI 2, but I know my job." Sara took a bite of her own sandwich.

"You didn't answer my question," Grissom prodded, unwrapping his proffered sandwich.

Sara sighed through another bite. "Good God, Grissom, it's not rocket science. Although, I could handle that just as easily. You're not wearing a ring, you're sitting here with me eating a turkey sandwich, you're watching bugs mature, and you've yet to make a phone call to anyone to let them know what you're doing."

Grissom watched with rapt interest as she rambled on. She took another bit of her sandwich before she continued. "You're a workaholic – it goes with the territory. Before you ask how I know that, it's because you're sitting in a CSI building pinning bugs on a board when you're only in the city to lecture."

She took another bite, barely glancing at him while she was talking. "Anyway, you don't get called for a second date when the first one gets interrupted by a call to a scene. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about."

Grissom stared at her, dumbfounded. "Do you ever shut up?" His voice took on a snippy tone, which went against his intent for there not to be one.

"I, uh... I... usually, yeah. I don't ever talk this much. I—I'm sorry. If I'm bothering you, I'll just go." She stood from her seat and turned for the door. Sara's over-talking was really getting on her nerves. What was with her and her sudden incessant babbling?

Grissom reached out and grabbed her arm. "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. I appreciate the sandwich, and I don't mind your talking. I was just surprised, that's all. I would rather you stayed here with me." He looked at her sincerely while his eyes pleaded with her to sit back down.

Sara looked at him for a few seconds, scrutinizing his face, making sure he was serious. "Okay, I'll stay on one condition," she relented.

"What's that?" he asked, utterly intrigued.

"You tell me more about these bugs and what's happening. If you're teaching, and I'm learning, I won't feel the need to talk so much." She gave him another of those very large grins he could not resist.

Grissom licked his dry lips and narrowed his eyes playfully. "Okay. It's a deal."

Sara's phone was both a pleasant and an unwelcome interruption. On one hand, Grissom was thinking more about her than the bugs he was pinning to the board. On the other hand, he was delighted to be in her presence and intrigued by everything about her. He continued pinning the bugs while Sara took her phone conversation out into the hallway. She came back in a minute later with an apologetic look on her face.

"I just got another call. So, I'll leave you in peace to do your work." She shuffled her feet nervously. It was clear she did not want to leave him.

"I'll see you later in the evening," he replied solemnly.

"You're not going back to your hotel tonight?" Her voice was hopeful.

"I'll stay here for as long as I can tonight. I'll put on a time-lapse camera for when I'm not here. It's far easier to make notes as I go rather than having to go over the data later. I'll have to leave the camera on all day tomorrow while the lecture is going, and I'd prefer to keep the camera to a minimum," he explained.

Sara was not quite sure she understood, but she accepted it, and it meant that he quite possibly could be around when she got back. "Oh, okay," she said as she walked from the room.

* * *

To Be Continued... 


	2. Chapter 2

Sara had not a chance to see him again that evening. She was lucky that she was able to log her evidence and get home at four in the morning. It would be a quick nap, but a nap nonetheless. The lecture started at nine.

She awoke with a start at seven. Sara rubbed her weary eyes and stared at the clock as if it had the mysteries of the universe mastered. _No reason to waste time. I'm just going to work and check on the cases before I head the campus._ She pulled herself from bed and ambled blindly towards the shower.

Forty-five minutes later she was striding confidently into the SFPD Crime Lab. Her hair was still damp and curling up as she went. She busied herself checking on both the trace evidence from both cases and stopped her trek once she rounded the corner to peek in on the bugs.

An eyebrow automatically went up when she spied Grissom staring at a computer monitor and frantically scribbling notes in a journal. He was completely engrossed in his work. Sara stood silently at the doorway and watched him. When he pursed his lips in thought, Sara's heart started beating in her ears.

Grissom removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Slowly, his eyes wandered over to the doorway. He gaze flicked over Sara, starting at her toes and working their way up her long legs and slowly up to meet her eyes. Electricity crinkled across the room.

"Who gets to yell at you when you're late?" Sara asked him finally.

"Huh?" Grissom stammered, looking at his watch, "Oh, uh, well... I think I have time to get there."

"I know you're addicted to your work, but I think we should leave now. Not sure when you were here last, but traffic is about to get pretty bad. That, and I'd like to stop for a cup of coffee on the way." She finished speaking and flashed the biggest smile he had seen up to that point.

Grissom dropped his pen on the desk and stopped the camera footage. That smile of hers was proving to be irresistible. "We? Coffee?"

"Yes, we. And, yes, coffee. You drink coffee, don't you? We're going to the same place, and I can function on low amounts of sleep, but only if I have a certain intake of coffee."

Grissom put the journal down on the table. One coffee might not kill him, right? He did want a cup of coffee before he started his day. "Ready when you are." Standing to leave, he picked up his journal and briefcase.

"There's a place on the way. I'll drive." Sara turned and was gone before he knew what hit him.

He narrowed his eyes and sprinted to catch up with her. "You're driving?"

"My, my, aren't you just full of questions this morning?" Sara rolled her eyes at him.

The drive to Starbucks was quiet. Sara repeated berated herself for her actions on the short drive. There was no reason why she was acting this way. Sure, she had flirted before, but never to this extent. He was a colleague, a respected man in his field, and leaving in a matter of days. It was harmless, she assured herself and promised herself she was just going to live and enjoy the moment for once in her life.

They went through the drive-thru and headed over to the college. Grissom was silently pleased that Sara had driven. She had been right about the traffic as it was a little daunting. She weaved through the cars on the freeway as if they were standing still. Sara pulled the car to a stop in a parking space with ten minutes to spare before class began.

Running over the case on the short walk into the classroom, they drew a few strange looks from other members of the class. Both were oblivious to the onlookers as the time passed until the room was filled with students ready for the lecture to begin.

Grissom, being well-versed in his lecture that he had given many times over, was forced to refer to his noted multiple times during the lecture. He carefully avoided the brunette's inquisitive eyes, knowing that he would lose track of what exactly he was saying.

She had asked a multitude of questions that were far too advanced for the lecture and went right over most of the students' collective heads. He had anticipated her eagerness and responded accordingly, answering without hesitation, anything she would ask.

Lunch was quick as they ate and rehashed some of the evidence in the case as well as further questions Sara had involving bugs in context with forensic evidence collection. Her utter fascination with the subject confused and excited Grissom to an extent that he had never been more amazed by anyone. Her quest and hunger for knowledge was intoxicating and tiring mixed deliciously together.

Most people he talked to, except his fellow entomological peers, were barely able to hold the façade that they were even remotely interested in what he did. This woman in front of him seemed not only interested, but fascinated by everything he had to say. Silently, he wished it was him and not his knowledge that she was interested in.

Grissom shook his head lightly on the way back to the classroom, trying to rid himself of the unprofessional feelings he was having about this blossoming CSI next to him. Her shoulder continuously brushed up against his, sending little electricity spikes throughout his body. She was absorbed in conversation, for that he was thankful, so she was unable to see the slight sweat that was forming around his hairline.

After class they drove quickly back to the lab, not wanting to waste a moment with the sensitive insect evidence. Briefly, they stopped at a fast food restaurant and picked up something to eat. Grissom had insisted on paying, but Sara had vehemently refused. She had literally picked his brain for information every single free moment they had and swore that she had to do something to repay him for the inconvenience.

In reality, it was a mix of wanting him close and wanting the information. He really piqued her interest when it came to physical and mental attraction. Sara was going to do everything in her power to keep him close to her for the time that he was in San Francisco, even if it was veiled in a work-related context.

Unbeknownst to Sara, Grissom was having the same thoughts. He was praying that her questions would not stop, and when they did, he was going to wrack his brain to think of some other expertise in the field to discuss with her. His time in San Francisco was going to be short, and he wanted to spend every moment there with her.

Sara got called out on another dead body that night and was unable to spend any time with Grissom. He was gone when she got back to the lab that night. Try as she might, the case had proved difficult to allow her back to the lab. The evidence was daunting, but had proved not to be too extremely difficult once she got her mind on the task at hand. It did, however, take her until three in the morning to finish. She was fast approaching maxing out on overtime, and it was only midway through the month.

She looked over his journal that was left lying on the counter. His handwriting was almost indecipherable, but endearing in the same instant. It was unique in its shorthand version of the complicated insect names she knew she would not even recognize if they were written out formally for her.

She tore herself reluctantly away from the book and walked dejectedly from the building. Sara felt it would have made her sleep just a little better if she could have seen him just one more time that evening. Then, she mused to herself that it may just have been a little harder to sleep because in just the short time they had been together he was becoming an all too constant in her thoughts.

* * *

"Four days approximately," Grissom stated in greeting as Sara came striding through the door of the layout room.

"Good morning, Sara. Good morning to you, too, Grissom," she muttered, looking pointedly at him.

"Not a morning person I see?" he quipped in response, raising a playful eyebrow.

Sara yawned, slurring her words, "Not before my coffee."

"Okay. Good morning, Sidle. Your DB's TOD is approximately four days ago based on the insect timeline I've recreated," he recited, his eyes on his notes.

"You sure?" she asked. At his mock hurt look she added, "Sorry. Just asking. I didn't mean to offend you." She grinned lightly in embarrassment.

"No offense taken." He smiled. "I've checked it a couple of times. I'm sure."

She held his gaze briefly before turning to head out the door. Sara called out over her shoulder, "C'mon, Grissom. Coffee and class awaits us."

He put the journal down with a smile and dutifully followed along. They went through the same routine as the day before. Sara drove them to Starbucks and then to the college. The lecture and lunch were also spent with her asking a plethora of questions ranging in complexity. The class, Grissom could tell, was slightly annoyed, but there was nothing he would do to rein her in.

The drive back to the lab was entirely too quiet. They both felt it was the end of their time together outside of class. Even if they had not spent the time together after classes the prior two days, they knew where the other was, what they were doing, and that they were close. Now, Grissom's work was done, and she had to go to work.

Parking the car, Sara stole a quick glance at Grissom. His lips were pursed in thought as he stared straight ahead at the building. His mouth slightly opened at one point as if about to say something, but he stopped short, pursing his lips again. Sara bit her lower lip, hating the uneasiness in her stomach. Both sat in the uncomfortable silence that had overtaken them.

"You want some company tonight?" he blurted out suddenly as Sara reached for the door handle.

"Huh?" Sara asked, knowing full well what he said, but unable to believe it.

"Well... I, um, was just wondering if... you, um..." he stammered like a schoolboy asking his first crush out on a date. He wondered just what had happened to his verbal skills in the matter of a few minutes alone with her and no work to discuss. "Well, I'm free, and I could help you out if you wanted." Grissom hated the pathetic almost pleading sound of his voice.

"I wouldn't want to impose. Don't you have other things to do tonight? Take in the sights? You can't have a vacation if you're in a Crime Lab while you're away from home." Sara was afraid to sound too hopeful at him being near her. The butterflies in her stomach were getting worse. Just the thought that he wanted to spend more time with her was pushing her over the edge.

"I'm a workaholic," he covered, "You said it yourself. Besides, I'm not on vacation. I'm here to lecture. I might as well make use of myself while I'm here." He paused briefly mulling over the rest of what she'd said. "You wouldn't be imposing. I offered, but it was presumptuous of me to assume you'd want someone standing over you. I'm quite sure you're capable to handle yourself at a crime scene."

"I—I wouldn't be... I didn't take it like that at all." Sara turned to face him. "I'd like the expertise that you could offer."

Finally, Grissom looked up from his hands. His smile was faint, but still there. And, it was enough to let Sara know that he was pleased to spend the time with her.

It was utterly amazing how two extremely intelligent and studied, yet socially inept, people could dance around the issue of mutual attraction as they had. It was the pretense of work that they needed for fear of what would happen when Grissom went home. It was a sad game of charades that they were playing by trying to hide the reasons they wanted to be together.

* * *

He stopped his movement around the room and let his eyes fall to a rest on the back of Sara's head. Grissom had been silent, wandering around the room, observing her and processing the room in his mind. It was amazing to watch her work because she was really in her element, completely absorbed in thought. She became so immersed with her tunnel vision, that he wondered if she was even aware of him being there, until she addressed to him, that was.

"Grissom, are you afraid to collect anything?" Sara called out to him.

"Um, no. I just thought I'd leave that up to you. I didn't want to intrude. I know that everyone has their own way to process," he explained. Although, he admitted to himself that her manner of processing was quite similar to his.

"This would go a whole lot faster if you'd help." Sara held up a pair of gloves to him. Seeing his raised eyebrow and hesitation she asked, "You afraid of being subpoenaed if this goes to trial?"

Her smile soothed the accusation as snatched the gloves playfully from her hand and replied, "No. Like I said, I just didn't want to interrupt."

Sara went back to work picking up pieces of glass under a window after thrusting a fingerprinting brush, fingerprint power, and lifting tabs towards him. She had not needed to point Grissom in the appropriate direction as he stood off to her side and printed the window above her.

After a couple hours of working, Grissom's cell phone rang. He was ungrateful for the offending object in his pocket as it interrupted their discussion of the most recent digest of Sara's favorite forensic magazine. Grissom was enthralled with her passion for the job.

"Grissom," he barked into the phone. Sara noted that he made no move to walk away as he took the call. His tone softened as he responded to the caller. "Um, no, I didn't... I'm sorry to have dropped all of that on you when I left, but... No, I'll be back on time... Friday just after the end of the lecture, but I'll be heading into work after getting off the plane... No, I know. We'll talk when I get back..." Grissom turned his back on Sara and spoke a little softer. "No, I said we'll talk when I get back. I'm not having this discussion with you over the phone... I'm busy right now. Breakfast Saturday morning at my place sounds fine."

He clicked his phone shut with a deliberate forcefulness. He would have loved to have been on a land line at that moment to slam it down. However, he settled with what he had available to him at that moment. The next time Catherine was near him at the lab, though, he was going to shut a door on her. He smiled at the thought.

"Girlfriend?" Sara asked him over her shoulder, immediately hating the jealous note in her voice. She was insanely glad she was facing a wall and not him as a blush crept across her face.

It was not Sara's place to ask him something like that, and was worried that Grissom might take offense to her having heard his conversation. If she had not been wearing latex gloves, Sara might have smacked herself on the forehead. Instead, she gave herself a mental whack to keep her mouth shut from then on.

"Um... it was... ah..." Grissom was dumbfounded. He had caught the slight tremor in Sara's voice when she asked, and he was rendered speechless at the possibility of what it could mean.

Sara turned around to him. "Sorry. I didn't mean to... um, the scene's done. We can take everything back to the lab." Her mouth gaped open as she sped from the room, her hands full of evidence and her case, and strode to her car.

Grissom grabbed the rest of the evidence he had collected and walked out behind her. He put everything into the backseat along with her items and climbed into the passenger seat. The drive was quiet – too quiet. Both of them were brooding as to what had happened after Grissom ended his call.

Sara parked quickly and grabbed everything, almost sprinting into the lab. Grissom knew he had to fix what had happened. He felt he needed appease her with an answer to let her know that she had done nothing wrong. Sara was not exactly owed an answer since it was his personal business, but he felt the need to give her one.

He caught up with her in one of the layout rooms. She had her back to him, not because she was angry, but because she was embarrassed.

"Sara—" he started.

"You don't need to say anything," Sara interrupted, "I apologize. That was really out of line. I had no reason to say that. It—It's really none of my business. I just opened my mouth before I even thought about it. I don't know you, and you don't know me, and... we're just different here, I guess. Not like we all know things about each other here at the lab, but we... joke about things... and..."

"You don't ever shut up, do you?" he joked and went on to explain, "Sorry. Look, that was a colleague of mine in Vegas. She was yelling at me because of a case we were involved in when I flew out here. She can't understand my notes. I left her with a guy in custody that we could only loosely tie to the case. We had twenty-four hours to hold him, and she's blaming me for his release."

Sara turned around to face him finally. "You didn't have to explain anything."

Grissom smiled at her. "No, I didn't have to. I wanted to." He paused and looked at the evidence laying on the table. "So, want to get to work?" He winked at her playfully.

The rest of the evening went well. Neither brought up the subject of the phone call again. They discussed the cases that Sara had been recently involved in. He gave her some pointers and helped her with a few leads. It was peaceful and exhilarating to have someone that she could converse with so easily about work. She loved her work and the people she worked with, but talking to Grissom was so different. He seemed to accept her views and was on the same wavelength in so many ways.

At midnight, with Sara's shift officially over, they called it a night and went their respective directions. Though both were loathe to admit it, they were thinking the same thing. Grissom was leaving Friday afternoon to go back to Vegas, and they would probably never see each other again. The hurt was more than either of them had experienced before.

* * *

On her way to the college for the lecture that morning, Sara stopped by the lab looking for Grissom. It was a long shot, she knew. It had not been a prearranged meeting on the other mornings, but Sara had almost planned on him being there. The layout rooms were only home to the regular CSIs that worked in the lab. Sadly, Sara drove alone from the building towards the college campus.

She stopped by Starbucks for her morning coffee. Impulse struck her as she was ordering, and she purchased one for Grissom as well. She ordered the same thing he had gotten the previous two days and smiled to herself when the server handed her the two cups. It might have seemed insignificant to anyone else, but Sara Sidle had never went this out of her way for anyone else before.

She walked into the classroom clutching the coffees as if her life depended on them getting delivered safely. Seeing that Grissom was on the phone again, Sara hung back in the doorway. As if Grissom felt her presence, he looked up and smiled at her. When he waved her over to him Sara's heart almost leapt out of her chest.

He finished the call quickly once she arrived at the front of the podium. "Good morning, Ms. Sidle," he teased her.

"Good morning, Dr. Grissom," she mocked him, holding one of the cups out towards him.

"I see you've already had your coffee this morning, and thank you. You didn't have to get this for me. I do appreciate it, though. I didn't have time to get any on my way in this morning."

She narrowed her eyes at him and smirked as she echoed his words of the night before. "No, I didn't have to. I wanted to."

Grissom tipped his head to the side and surveyed her for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but the sounds of impending students stopped his train of thought abruptly. It gave him a moment to consider what he was about to ask her. It had been so easy for him so many times before, but it was incredibly hard for him to ask Sara.

He knew why, though. There were a couple of reasons that stopped him from asking her to dinner. First, he was only here for one more day. Second, there was a tremendous age difference between them. Third, she looked like she was owed more than one dinner which could lead to more, but refer back to number one. Fourth, he felt something deep in his soul when he looked at her, but felt the impending vulnerability that would occur after that.

No, he could not ask her out to dinner. But, when Sara asked him over lunch, he found himself saying yes to her. It was ridiculous, he knew, but the simple one-word answer had fallen out of his mouth before he could even rationalize the question. She had merely just said that she was off on Thursday nights and wondered if he wanted to get a bite to eat as a thank you for everything he had done for her.

It was _not_ a date, he kept telling himself. It could _not_ be a date. It was just a dinner between two people that had worked together for a few days. She was a colleague. She was an incredibly intriguing, intelligent, and beautiful colleague. Something in his gut told him that it was a date even if his mind was screaming that it was not.

They drove over to the restaurant in their respective cars. It felt like less of a date for both of them if they arrived separate, even if they would walk in together. It was a nervous adventure for both of them, but they were equally trying to be casual about it.

* * *

"So, do you get to San Francisco often?" she asked at a lull in the conversation while they were waiting on their desert to arrive.

"Not much, really. I've been here a few times for lectures, but not in quite a few years. Work takes up a lot of my time. It's hard to get away when you have a team of people depending on you," he admitted solemnly.

"You know the people here at the Crime Lab. You must've spent some time here at some point." Sara continued to dig for more information to get to know this enigmatic man in front of her. She wanted to get to know him as much as he would allow her in the little time left that they were afforded together.

"I have been called in to consult on a few cases over the years. The occasional instance where the crime was horrific enough to warrant an immediate response. Mostly when I've been in town already and the circumstances presented themselves, however." He watched her toying with her coffee cup in thought.

"Like this time?" she asked, stating the obvious.

"Mm-hmm."

Fate really threw Sara Sidle a curve ball when Gil Grissom was brought into her life. He was unabashedly good-looking, extremely intelligent, had a wry sense of humor, had the same work ethic, and, most of all, he understood her job. Never once had she really ever allowed herself to envision that someone would come along with each and every one of those qualities.

Since she was a child, Sara had resigned herself to believing that she would be alone, save the off chance she would find someone to share a few months with at a time. She had spent enough time alone during her years growing up, that she assumed that was the way she would spend the rest of her life. Admittedly, it was sometimes lonely, but it was safer that way.

If she let no one in, there was no way she could get hurt. With each relationship she had had in the past, when it became remotely clear that it was progressing too far, Sara instinctively cut all ties with that person. She would find fault in anything just to get away. There was no way she could see herself opening up to someone else and sharing her life with them – not now, and absolutely not forever.

She had her books, her brains, and her job. That would be enough to sustain her – it had to be. It certainly had been enough to get her through her young years, and it was what got her to where she was at that point in her life. No personal entanglements to get in the way of her job, her devotion, and her goals. Ten years of promising herself that did nothing to dispel the feeling of hope when it came to the blue-eyed man drinking coffee with her.

"So," he asked, "what made you choose Criminology as your profession?"

Sara eyed him suspiciously over the rim of her coffee cup. She had been sipping the hot liquid absentmindedly as her mind wandered over the random thoughts scattered through her weary mind. It was in moments like this that she reminded herself why she preferred the dead over the living. People always had questions. They never got past the blood and gore that a CSI would have to endure day in and day out.

This was generally the point in a date that she would make a decision that there would be no future dates with that person. All too often she had been criticized for her career choice. People never understood why she wanted to make the world a safer place, give her life meaning, give some peace back to the world, and try to help those who never had a chance to help themselves. That was only part of the truth. She never told people the honest to God truth as to why she got into this profession.

That would be something she could not share with anyone. There was no way she could ever explain that your past makes you who you are. There was no way she could force someone to understand that she felt guilty for her parents' bouts with the law. It would be impossible for people to fathom that she only wanted to make herself whole by helping other innocent victims.

But, this was not a date, she reminded herself, and malice did not show in his eyes when he posed the question. He appeared sincere. He had probably been asked that question many times in his past. It was a fair question in this instance, she determined finally. He seemed actually interested in her response, maybe actually intrigued. Still, there was something holding her back.

Trust was not easily won by Sara Sidle. She used that daily when interviewing suspects, and it became her best asset in many ways. She did not believe herself naïve enough to trust people by instinct. This man seemed harmless enough, but he was still a man, and she had been hurt by the first man in her life. She would test the waters with him.

She gave him her patented and empty answer to see his reaction. "To help people." Her eyes diverted themselves and never left the swirling liquid in front of her.

"You could help people working in a homeless shelter. So, why this?" Grissom's eyes never left her face, watching for her reaction.

She looked up sullenly, meeting his gaze. "I want to help people who can no longer help themselves," she relented. It was the partial truth.

"The dead can no longer talk. Be the victim's last voice. It's admirable." He looked deeply into her eyes.

There was something off, but Grissom was unwilling to push her to talk unless she was ready. Sara was young and idealistic but also deep and understanding. If only he could bottle that and pull it out when cases got the better of him.

_Would he still think it was admirable if I told him that I am only trying to make peace within myself?_ Sara knew she was unable to change what had happened to her and pushed herself to find closure for people that needed it the most.

Maybe it was possible after helping thousands of victims she could finally forgive her father for beating her and her mother. Maybe after a thousand more she could forgive her foster brother for beating her when she told his family that he had marijuana under his bed. Maybe a few thousand after that she could forgive her mother for choosing the path of killing her father.

Sara searched his eyes. A feeling of being naked and vulnerable under his gaze flickered through her body. For the first time since they met, Sara felt like telling him everything, and it was completely foreign to her. Never had she wanted to release her secrets and skeletons to anyone.

She cleared her throat and looked slightly uncomfortable. "Um, thanks."

Another expanse of quiet enveloped them as their desert arrived. Thankful for the distraction, they both resorted to shoveling apple pie into their mouths rather than talking further. Finally, Sara's thoughts became too much for her.

"Do you think this is a good career choice?" she asked.

"Mmm?" Grissom asked through a bite of the pie.

"I mean... um, I don't really know what I mean. Never mind." Sara frowned and resorted back to eating her pie.

Grissom placed his fork down on his plate. "If you're asking me in generality, I would say that it's up to each individual to make a decision for themselves as to whether they can perform the job duties. It's a tough decision, and one that not a lot of people can endure on a daily basis. It's not easy and it's sometimes tedious, and it's really affecting sometimes. But, you already know all of that."

He studied her across the table for a moment. Sara was staring at her almost empty plate. "So, if you're asking me about you, personally, I would have to say that you would need to ask yourself that more than me. However, I've seen you work, and in the little time we've spent together, your work is exemplary. Your dedication is tremendous. Your work ethics is extraordinary. In my time in this field, I've not come across anyone that has so far surpassed my expectations... until now."

Sara took a chance and looked up into his eyes. What she saw there was almost unsettling. He looked raw with emotion. It was strange for her to want someone to tell her that she was doing a noble thing or to make her believe she had chosen the appropriate career path in her life. Never once had she wanted or needed an atta-girl, but Gil Grissom was different. She had already decided that early on, but it was scary for her to realize she wanted his approval.

Her cell phone rang then, at the most inopportune of moments. Sara snatched it up quickly, looking apologetic. "Sidle."

Grissom watched her listening intently to the person on the other end of the phone. Her facial features were animated as she took in everything being said. He felt himself smiling, seeing the different emotions play across her face. This would be another of those moments he would catalogue in his mind for later review once he arrived safely at home to his lonely townhouse.

An eyebrow shot up unexpectedly as she started talking. "What? When? … That's awesome. I'll be right there." She clicked the phone shut.

Immediately her face went blank and then formed a frown. "Oh, God, I'm sorry. I..."

"It's okay. It's the job. Something good I assume?" He continued to smile at her.

"Yeah—Yes. They arrested someone linked to a cold case I've been working on. I can't believe it. I've been waiting for this for a while. I can't believe it's happening. Dumbass apparently decided tonight was the night to pick a fight with a vending machine at a store, and his prints match my crime scene. I need to go get his DNA." Sara's voice rose with each syllable as the happiness at catching a potential killer took over her entire body.

Reality struck Sara in that instant. This would be their last time alone together. She would have the next day with him in the lecture, but then he was getting on a plane and heading back to Vegas and away from her permanently. Her stomach lurched with the sudden sadness of it.

"I can get someone else to take the DNA," she mumbled, reaching for her phone.

"No, no, if it's your case, you go and do it. I'm sure you worked your ass off it. So, you go bring the case home."

Sara's indecision still weighed heavily on her. The case had been hanging over her head for weeks with nothing to show for it until now. How could she just walk away from him when this was the last time they would be alone together? Grissom saw the dilemma in her eyes as much as he felt it in himself.

"Do you want me to..." Grissom started to ask her if he could come along.

"I wouldn't dream of making you do that... You've got to get ready... to, uh... to go tomorrow after the seminar." Sara looked sheepishly at her hands for a moment as she rose from her seat.

"Yeah, I've got to pack," he replied dejectedly, getting up from the booth himself. He knew it was the smartest move to make. They needed to break ties, and he needed to get his emotions in check. Getting more involved with Sara Sidle could be his downfall.

There was the awkwardness again. It settled over them like a soggy blanket, ruining their entire evening together. They stared at each other for a long minute. Sara thrust her hand out clumsily towards Grissom. He glanced down at her hand before offering his back.

"Thank you for everything, Grissom," she said quickly, grabbing the check off of the table.

"You're welcome. Let me get that, Sara." He reached out towards her hand for the check.

"No. It was my treat. I asked you here. I really appreciate everything. Really." She walked towards the register of the small diner. "But, I've got to go if I'm going to take care of this."

Grissom watched her drive away. A little piece of him died when her car disappeared out of sight. He knew their time together was over. Sara Sidle had captured part of his soul – a part that he knew he would never get back.

* * *

To Be Continued... 


	3. Chapter 3

Sara arrived at the classroom long before she thought anyone else would be arriving and sat a cup of coffee on the podium. Quickly, she disappeared out of the classroom before Grissom could possibly catch her. She would not allow herself to miss giving him a cup of coffee on the last morning, but she did not feel strong enough to engage in talking with him. They had left on strange circumstances the night before.

It had been a mixed blessing when her cell phone had rung. It was always bittersweet to get something you want and leave something else just as potent behind. She wanted nothing more than to put that case behind her, but she wanted to spend the time with Grissom. Just as she wanted to spend as much time with him as she could, Sara was unsure how the night would have ended.

She was not known to have one night stands, and she felt he deserved more than that. In fact, Sara was quite sure she would want more than that from him. He was someone she desired to get to know and likewise share more of herself with him. A casual fling would never be enough.

Sara hid out in the bathroom until she knew she would barely be on time for the lecture. Walking into the room, Sara noticed she was the last to arrive. She mused to herself that it was fitting that their time together would end as it had started. Grissom turned around from the board to look at her.

Much unlike the first day, he wore a bright smile when she appeared and took her seat in the front row. He mouthed the words 'thank you' and winked right before he launched into the lecture. Sara savored every last word, fearing it would be the last time she heard his voice.

They ate lunch together one last time. It had not been uncomfortable like both had expected it to be. The topics of conversation had been about some of the latest developments in forensics and how they could be applied to every day cases. It was liberating to have someone to talk to outside of their normal circle of coworkers.

As the lecture grinded almost dramatically to a halt, Sara found herself sitting alone in her seat after the rest of the students had left the room. She watched as Grissom packed up his notes, experiments, and displays. Sara pushed herself out of her seat and walked up to the podium.

"Let me help you get those out to your car. How are you going to get all of this on the plane, anyway?" Sara's face twisted in confusion.

Grissom chuckled at her. "I pack light. Most of this will fit a large box which is the just barely within the airlines baggage restrictions. The rest will be packed in my suitcase and my carry on." He looked at her earnestly for a moment. "You need to get to work, don't you?"

"So I'll be a few minutes late... I max out on overtime every month. My supervisor will probably breathe a sigh of relief to see that I'll save the department a few dollars this month." She smiled broadly at Grissom.

"I'm sure Ben would be pleased to know you're looking out for him," Grissom teased her. "Let's go before you're too late and he blames me. I like to stay on his good side."

Standing beside his packed rental car, Grissom turned to Sara. She looked up at him for a moment before speaking. With each ticking second, it was becoming increasingly harder to tell him good-bye.

"It was a pleasure. I've said it before, but I really mean it: Thank you for your insight and for your help. If you're ever in San Francisco again, look me up." She thrust her hand out to him again as she had done the night before.

Grissom shook her hand and replied, "You're right, it was a pleasure, and I will."

Sara turned and began walking towards her car a few spaces down. _This is the last time I'm going to see him, I know it. He's leaving, and I'm staying, and this is it. It's over._ She never felt more empty in all of her life.

"Sara," he called out to her, walking the few feet to catch up. "Here's my card. I wrote my cell on the back of it... If you would like to talk or keep in touch that is... about the cases we worked on or forensics or if something about entomology comes up."

Grissom had gotten the card ready the night before. He had been wavering over giving it to her or not. He had been unsure if she would take the gesture wrong or if she would even call. Rejection was not foreign to him, and he could not fathom what would happen to him if Sara was the one who turned him down.

Sara took the card from his shaking fingers and turned it over in her hand. She held onto it securely as if her life depended on the information it held. "I don't... I don't have a card or anything to write my number down on." She looked helpless.

"I'm sure you'll give it to me when you call. But, whether you call or not it entirely up to you." His voice spoke calmly despite the inner turmoil threatening to break his steely exterior.

This woman was driving him over the edge. It was quickly threatening the walls around his world. He felt them crumbling as they stared into each other's eyes. Grissom had found himself on many dates in his life, but none that compared to the week of non-dates he had shared with her. He had found himself in the arms of a beautiful woman for a night or maybe a few nights over a period of time when his work would permit it, but it could not compare to spending the evening scrutinizing a crime scene or evidence with this woman.

It was definitely peculiar how one's mind compares instances in life. It catalogues them for later reference, sometimes as good or bad, and oftentimes as better or worse than something else. It was in a moment such as this that Grissom felt the cells in his body screaming out to him that everything would be compared to this woman whether she had ever really been a part of his life or not.

Love at first sight? No, Gil Grissom was not a believer. He had long warded himself off from thoughts of love. His life was set. He had his work, his job, his mind, his books, and his experiments to keep him happy. Life was just easier that way. It was his equilibrium. If someone stepped into that life, it would be thrown off balance, and he savored the feeling of order he had brought to his life.

His life was a carefully weighed and balanced equation. The variables were always counted and placed strategically on each side to offer him a semblance of finality – of completeness. There was no way he could throw Sara Sidle into the equation and not tip the mathematical solution into oblivion. Yet, yet his mind was working on that very thing.

How could one week with this woman threaten his very existence? One week he spent at that college as a guest lecturer at a forensic seminar had changed him dramatically. Maybe there was hope for the stoic Gil Grissom after all. Or maybe he would go home and forget this had ever happened. He had to go home and forget about this woman.

It was an infatuation. Infatuation with the mixture of her mind, body, and spirit, the very intricacies of it. He would be able to go home and plunge headlong into work, and this would all be a dream or a nightmare – or at least he could dare to hope.

Sara's eyes held his gaze for just a few seconds before she felt herself blush and look away. She stared back down at the card in her hand. Steadying her emotions, she glanced back up at him. His face was unreadable, but the card in her hand told her what she wanted to know.

He was offering a little piece of himself to her. Sara was elated. It was simply a business card thrust haphazardly in her general direction, but Sara felt giddy holding it in her hand. The proffered card was a way into Gil Grissom's life, even if it was on a work-related premise.

It was amazingly scary for Sara to admit to herself that she was so excited by the thought of the card. She had not really pondered where she wanted to go with Grissom, but this was at least a way to keep him close until she had time to think it through. Sure, Sara had felt something between them, but only time would tell what exactly their futures would hold.

A flirtatious smile crossed her lips as she poked him once on the chest. "I'll, uh... I'll do just that," she cooed with a wink. With that, she spun on her heels and strode purposefully to her car, a distinctive swagger in her walk.

Grissom watched her walk away, wondering just what he had gotten himself into.

* * *

"Hey, Grissom. Man, good to see you're back," Warrick said in passing, patting Grissom on the shoulder.

Grissom had never been known for being a touchy-feely guy, but Warrick had involuntarily made the gesture. When Grissom did not flinch at the touch, Warrick almost turned around. Almost. He knew it would be worse if he acknowledged the response, so he let it go. Something had changed in Gil Grissom in the week that he had been gone.

He grunted an affirmative response to Warrick's greeting. Grissom was elated to be home and getting back to normal, but his mind was in San Francisco on a leggy brunette who was claiming his every subconscious thought. _Will she call me?_ he thought, _Was I too pushy? Will she take it the wrong way? Is this what I want?_

Catherine, Nick, and Warrick were sitting in the breakroom waiting dutifully for their assignments. It was business as usual as Grissom walked in and took his seat as well. Brass walked in a few minutes behind him with a couple of assignment slips.

"Okay, we've got a couple new ones on the table tonight. Take your assignments and head out. Time's a wastin'," Brass said gruffly. "Grissom, Nick, you have a DB in the desert. Catherine, Warrick, you've got a couple DBs of your own at the Bellagio."

Grissom was eager for the distraction of the job at hand. He grabbed the sheet of paper and sped from the room with Nick close on his heels. It was nothing new for Grissom to be eager to work, but there was something distinctly different about him. And, not a one of the CSIs missed it.

He came back with an almost bounce in his stop. There was a monumental shift in his demeanor upon his arrival into the LVPD Crime Lab. He was happy and talkative, much unlike his usual distant self.

* * *

Two weeks later the rough exterior was making a comeback as they settled into the breakroom to await any new cases for the evening. It had not been a complete reversal to his old habits, but everyone could see that something was bothering Grissom.

Chalking it up to him just getting settled back into the job after his break to teach, they let it go. Frankly, they were all a little unnerved by the new Grissom. They had known each other for a couple of years, and Grissom being all business at work was a constant they counted on.

Brass came stalking into the breakroom and was about to start handing out slips when Grissom's cell phone rang. They all looked quizzically at each other and then expectantly at Grissom as he pulled the phone from his pocket. If each of them had said what they were thinking, it would have echoed around the room as if they were at the edge of a canyon. _That has got to be the results of some case. Wait. What case? Personal call? He never gets personal calls._

"Grissom," he answered the phone.

"_Did I wake you? I'm sorry. I never even considered the time," Sara's voice floated through the telephone like heaven's breath._

A smile crossed his face involuntarily. "No. No, I'm at work right now." At that instant he realized there were other people in the room, and all of their eyes were trained on him. Grissom looked up nervously, glancing at each of them.

"_Working late? I'm not interrupting, am I? I had something I wanted to tell you." Her voice was strained with anticipation, barely able to contain her excitement._

Grissom hated to tell her no. He hated to put off the conversation. He really hated having to make it appear as if he was unaffected by the call. Truth be told, he was barely able to hear her through the intense beating of his heart in his ears.

"Um, actually, I work the night shift, and we just started. Can you, uh, call me back in about five minutes? Or... I can call you, unless..." He hated the stammering, babbling fool he became when he talked to her.

"_Five minutes. Got it. Bye," she responded, severing the connection._

Grissom pulled the phone away from his ear and snapped it shut. Putting the phone back in his pocket, he pursed his lips in thought. He silently pleaded with each member of his team to let it go. They had either not heard it or ignored the pleading – or at least one of them did. She voiced her opinion as always.

"Who was that, Gil?" Catherine's voice broke through the silence.

He looked up as earnestly as he could and answered as vaguely as possible. "A contact in San Francisco. I worked a case there while I was gone, and the results just came back in. The CSI there was giving me a courtesy call." He had no idea if that was the truth of why she called, but it sounded like a plausible excuse.

"At midnight?" she grilled him further.

He avoided the pointed question. It was entirely conceivable that the person on the phone had worked the midnight shift as well, but he wanted to avoid the entire conversation. "We're here, and that phone call had nothing to do with a case here. Can we get on with it?" His voice was irritated enough to warrant the end of the conversation.

"Ah, yes," Brass said with eyebrows raised in disbelief, "Grissom's five minutes are ticking. Let's get these handed out before we hold him up."

True to her word, Sara's call rang into Grissom's cell phone while he was heading to the CSI SUV. He answered almost immediately, with his heart beating in his ears again. Sara Sidle had really called him.

"Hey," he whispered in greeting.

"_Hey, yourself." Her smile was contagious, even through the phone line. "Is this a better time? If not, we can talk another time. I don't want to interrupt you while you're working."_

"I'm on my way to a crime scene... I can talk for a few minutes. Hold on for a second." He turned to Warrick, covering the mouthpiece of the phone a little. "Warrick, can you drive to the scene?" He tossed the keys across the hood without waiting for a response.

Warrick's surprise, thought evident, was lost on Grissom as he grabbed the keys out of midair and walked around to the driver's side. His eyes still large, he tried to listen in on the conversation.

"Okay. Sorry. So, what is this great news you have to tell me?" he eagerly asked her.

"_Well, it's... Both of the cases we worked together are closed. We got the guys. I thought you'd be happy to know. Two less pieces of scum are walking the earth tonight because of the work we did." She was beaming._

"That's wonderful news. I couldn't be happier if I was there to watch them get arrested." Grissom was barely aware that they were driving. Sara's voice was music to his ears, even if it was work-related.

"_So, how was your flight?"_

"It was good. A little bumpy, but I survived." He stopped, at a loss for what else to say to keep her on the phone just a little longer. "Oh, does this mean that I'm going to be subpoenaed to testify when it goes to trial?" His voice was straining to remain detached. Grissom did not want to scare her off with his over-eagerness to be near her again.

"_Probably not. You left really good notes, and I'm sure I can testify to the evidence as collected." Her voice carried a note of sadness that he felt._

"Um, what about the insect timeline?" He was reaching for any excuse possible to warrant a return trip to San Francisco.

"_The guy gave it up in the interview room. He's verified your finding on his own. All I'll have to do is present them."_

"Oh." This time Grissom's voice was dejected, no matter how much he tried to restrain it.

"_Well, there's always the chance that the DA will want you to tell them yourself, but..."_

"Chances are pretty slim. And, you did really well on that case. You can handle the information. If they have half the faith in you that I do, they won't hesitate for a second to let you present the information on your own." He looked up, suddenly realizing the vehicle was stopped. "Oh, hey, I've got to go. We're at the scene."

"_Oh, okay... Well, I'll... um..." Sara stammered, unsure how to end their conversation._

"Give me your phone number," Grissom spouted, "In case I need to call you."

Sara's jaw dropped. He really wanted to get her number, and he really wanted to keep in touch. It had not been just a way to find out about the case. Then, she mentally smacked herself. If that had been all, she or her supervisor could have called him for an update by his contact information at the Crime Lab. She had actually not been reading too much into him giving her his card.

"_It's, ah..." For a few brief seconds she literally forgot her number. "Are you ready to write it down?" she covered for herself._

She gave him the number, and they hung up. The night shift took on a whole new feeling as Grissom made his way around. He was walking on air, like a five year-old in a candy store. There was no containing the giddy feeling in his gut as he thought about the phone call.

He was still unsure about calling her. What would he say? He had no reason to call her unless it was work-related. She had not really made her intentions clear as to whether it was more than work, but she had still called, after all. He decided to give it a few days and see what happened from there – he would give himself time to think of a reason.

* * *

Once a week, their informal arrangement of the phone call would take place. At least three times a week they found themselves e-mailing the other. The conversations were generally work-related, or at least had work thrown in for good measure. Their discussions ranged from what type of print powder to use to how to lift prints off of certain items to how to coax a suspect to talking.

They discussed developments in cases that bothered them the most or a case that just would not let them go. A lot of times one of them offered the other an outside viewpoint that aided them in finding that one last piece of crucial evidence. And, sometimes, even their work relationships would come up in conversation, talking about the most recent incident involving coworkers at their lab.

The day she wrote him an e-mail, two years into their long-distance relationship, telling him she had been promoted to a CSI Level 3 was a day burned forever in his memory. He immediately called her, not paying any attention to the time. Her enthusiasm was unmatched in any conversation they had had before. He thought back to the day he had been promoted, and briefly pondered whether he had been that happy. He wished he could see her face, but felt oddly content that at least he could hear her voice and imagine what she looked like. Her progress through the ranks had been fast, almost as fast as his.

There were times they would discuss movies or books or quotes, but there was always that imaginary line they had drawn. Both feared what crossing that line might mean for their forged friendship. The idea that there could be more was intoxicating and frightening to both of them. Their friendship was rewarding, both able to share things with each other that no one else would understand.

At that same time, though, it was even more terrifying to think that that friendship could crumble if they were wrong about their feelings. They took the distance of five hundred and fifty miles that separated them to heart. As long as there was a physical chasm that needed to be bridged, the emotional part of the relationship did not have to be addressed.

It was far easier to hide the feelings when they were not afforded the opportunity to see reactions to comments, touch them on accident, or smell their scent after they had left the same general vicinity. Life would carry on the status quo with these two good friends sharing ideas, goals, and camaraderie.

* * *

"Yeaaah?" Sara whined into the phone. She peeked at the alarm clock beside her bed. _It's nine in the morning, and I've been asleep forty-five minutes. This is had better be important._

"_Sara?"_

"Whatever you're selling, I don't want it. Good-bye," she spouted.

"_Sara! Don't hang up the phone."_

It was too late. He heard the dead silence hanging on the line. He scrunched up his face and redialed her phone number immediately.

Sara rolled over in her bed and snuggled back down in the covers. _I'm never going to get back to sleep now. Damn it. I hate starting my workday early and pulling a triple._ The shrill ringing of her phone again caused her to sigh heavily.

"What!" she spat into the receiver.

"_Sara, I need to talk to you," he said calmly._

"Grissom?" she asked, completely confused. "It's nine in the morning. What's wrong?"

"_I've got a problem..." Grissom was unsure how to continue. This had to be the hardest thing he had done in a long time._

"This sounds serious. Talk to me." She sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Whatever it was he had to say, she wanted to be ready and eager to listen.

"_One of the CSIs on my team was shot this morning. I was just put in charge of the unit. I need some help." His voice was low, tired, and spent with emotion._

He remained strong in front of his team, but with this woman on the other end of the phone, he let all his pretenses go. They had five years of agonizing together. This time would be no different.

Sara straightened her back. This was incredibly important. "What can I do to help?" she asked eagerly. Sara knew she would do anything for him.

"_I hate to ask you this, Sara. There's no one else I would call... I know it's sudden..." His voice trailed off, at a loss for how to ask her._

"Grissom, spit it out already. Just let me know how I can help you... Anything."

"_Anything?" he asked hesitantly, "Are you sure?"_

"Grissom, anything," she repeated.

"_How soon can you be in Vegas?"_

"How soon do you want me there?" Despite her previous sleepiness, she jumped out of bed and started rummaging through her closet for a duffel bag. Never had she been this impulsive in her life, but he sounded desperate. Added to that that she would get to see him again. He asked her to help him. He was calling her to Vegas.

"_I can arrange the next flight out of San Francisco into Vegas. How soon can you be at the airport?" Grissom asked, clicking on the internet to search for flights at that moment._

"I'm packing now. I'll call Ben on the way to the airport and arrange some personal time. You know I'm still off on Thursdays. So, it shouldn't be too hard for me to slip out. I can be there in probably 45 minutes." She threw clothes into before zipping it up.

"_I'm booking a flight for two hours from now. I'll e-mail you the details for you to take to the airport with you."_

"Let me call a cab from my home phone. Hold on a minute." She was back on the line with Grissom in what seemed like seconds. "Okay. Cab should be here in a short while. Fill me in on what I'll need to know while I print the e-mail and finish packing."

_Grissom recalled all of the details that he was aware of and finished up, "... I'll have an officer meet you at the airport to take you to the lab. You can check in there, and they'll and tell you where to meet me." He paused, letting it all sink in. "You're really doing this? You have no idea how much this means to me, Sara."_

"Grissom, I'm more than happy to do it. This is what friends are for, and well, I'd be there for you whenever you needed me. Besides, it'll give us a chance to catch up in person, and I'll get to see where you work since you already know where I do." She added the last part with a lift in her voice, making an attempt to ease a little of the weight on his shoulders.

"_You, ah, sounded tired when I called..." He trailed off, not knowing for sure just how to say what he was thinking. This had always been the tricky part for them when it veered out of work conversation._

"I just pulled an extra shift. I'll be okay. I'll catch a couple of winks on the plane. You know me and my insomnia. Nothing that a hot cup of coffee won't take care of." She threw the bag over near the door and started packing the supplies she would need while she was there. "Oh, how long are we planning? I'll need to pack accordingly and tell Ben how long I need the leave for."

Grissom was thoughtful for a moment. He mulled it over in his mind. They were short one person on the shift, and he could use someone like Sara. No. No, he needed to keep her at a distance. Then, why call her in the first place? Just to see her for a few minutes to get his fix after all these years, and then she would be on her way back home.

She could stay to complete the inquiry into Holly Gribbs' murder, and maybe a few extra cases until the dust settled. Then, she would go home, and only come back to see him if there was a subpoena. Safer. Secure. Maybe she should just stay until the rookie CSI's death is resolved and go home. The last option would be the most prudent.

"_Um... Well, we're short a CSI with Holly in the hospital, and depending on the outcome, I might be short another one. If you want to take some semi-long-term time off from there... you can stay on here and help out until I can get the team resettled." _Shit. Where did that come from? I just decided not to keep her around._ "So, the time you take off is up to you, and I'll be grateful for whatever you give me."_

"How about we play it by ear?" Sara tried her best not to sound hopeful. She was thrilled to be spending any time with him. "I'll take a few months off to stay in Vegas... If you get tired of me being around, I'm sure Ben won't mind if I come back sooner."

Indeed, being off on that night would give her supervisor a little time to settle into a new routine without her there. Unfortunately, this was the only the second investigation that had come at a semi-opportune time – second only to the bug case during Grissom's lecture.

Grissom scoffed at that remark. He knew there was no way he would tire of Sara Sidle. It was she that he feared would tire of him. It was all very simple in his mind. He was the middle-aged, eccentric, odd, stoic, emotionally unavailable man that would be thrown to the side after a she recognized all of those _qualities_.

"_I'm sure that won't be a problem," he agreed._

"Shit, Grissom. The cab's here. I gotta go. I'll see you as soon as I'm in Vegas." It had been a lie, but Sara needed off the phone. She was beginning to find it hard to concentrate with him on the phone.

Sara dialed Ben Harrison's phone number at the SFPD Crime Lab. She filled him in on the basics of the situation, knowing that most of it was privileged information. Ben would not give the information out, but it was still a matter of protocol. He was understanding and assured Sara that she could have all the time she wanted.

As she was talking, Sara filled another bag with clothing. Enough clothes for two weeks were packed in her bags, and she would buy anything else she needed while she was there. She mused that it would be nice to have a few new articles of clothing anyway, and what better excuse.

* * *

To Be Continued... 


	4. Chapter 4

"So, how was your first day?" he inquired over the top of his coffee.

The diner was quiet and subdued. It gave them a chance to reacquaint themselves to each other. And, it was very un-Vegas, to which Sara was quite thankful. There would be more days in the future to see the Vegas style, leaving this day to adjust herself to the temporary new life.

Sara eyed him suspiciously over the top of her own cup. She was amazed at how good he still looked. Over the five years they had been apart, Sara had almost believed she had imagined his handsome features. Time had treated him quite fairly. Each grey hair on his head made him look even sexier.

From the moment she had seen him on the street, Sara had vowed to herself to keep it all professional unless he gave her an indication that it was more than that. Hell, he invited her to Las Vegas. Should that not have been enough to believe that he missed her? For anyone else, maybe, but not Gil Grissom. He was one person not easily read.

She thought back over her first day in the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Grissom had made it clear that he wanted her to be comfortable and gave her all the accommodations afforded to the regularly assigned CSIs. Specifically, he made sure she had a locker and a laptop to get the day started.

The locker had been just as useless as the laptop. All of her belongings were at her hotel, and the report she had written was completely disregarded by Grissom in search of some higher peace. It had been easy to crack the case, and Sara had felt up to the challenge. It made her feel good to be trusted and needed. The fact that he ignored her report, keeping Warrick on the roster did indeed piss her off.

Sara felt ill at ease with most of the group. Warrick had been overly defensive with her, but he was under a lot of stress with impending termination hanging over his head. Catherine had been hostile at first, but had proven to be a good CSI. No one had made her feel overtly welcome, but that was to be expected considering she was investigating one of their own. It was not an ideal situation.

Grissom had warned her that it would happen, and Sara, likewise, knew it would as well. He assured her that he had told them about his trust in her, but that would never assuage the fear of her being an outsider. He summoned Sara to Vegas and propelled her into his small group, giving no other explanation than she was a trusted friend, and expected them to feel the same.

"It had its ups and downs," she replied vaguely, wanting to avoid the subject of how alone she actually felt.

"I'm sorry. I know that this is a... tense situation for you. I'd understand if you left before life got too complicated." Grissom stared into the depths of his coffee cup.

"Life is in itself complicated. Why start ducking and covering now?" She managed a small smile despite how rotten she was feeling.

"So, you said ups _and _downs. What were the ups?" Grissom asked with a crooked smirk.

Sara placed her cup on the table and fidgeted with her fork for a moment. "Well, the ups, huh? Where to start? There was the almost getting groped on the plane incident, the investigation of a fellow CSI, the meeting of hostile people, the useless report... wait, you said ups... well, there was the nap on the plane and getting to see you again, even if it is under such circumstances." Sara's tone held a hint of irritation in the beginning, but had softened somewhat by the time she finished.

Grissom tipped his head and studied her while she was speaking. He took no offense to her words as he knew she was tired, and it was a tense situation. It did sting a little, hearing her mention the report. He knew Warrick and trusted him, placing faith in the CSI that nothing like that would ever happen again. Grissom could only hope that Sara would take the chance to do the same. She might never be able to understand everything since she had been brought in only to investigate it.

Only to investigate. If that were really the only reason she was there. Grissom would not and could not even admit to himself that it was his own selfish desire to have her near him that he had called her. She was the first person he could think of to call upon when he had gotten the news. He wanted and needed her near him to make it all complete – to give him the strength he needed to continue.

He had never told Sara how much she had done for him in the previous five years. Her presence alone, though not physically with him, but always there, was enough to sustain him in his roughest hours when he thought the world would break him. She had been an ear to listen and a voice to reassure him. She had been a sounding board for ideas, a helping hand for a stalled case, and an anchor to hold him still when life got rough. He loved her youthful vigor with which she approached her job. It was refreshing in a sea of burnouts.

"I'm sorry this wasn't what you expected, Sara," he stated rather regretfully, searching her eyes.

"I didn't _expect_ anything. I came here to help you."

"So, does that mean you're staying for a while?" His voice was incredibly hopeful.

"It does. You can't get rid of me that easily. I told you that I'm here until you get tired of me."

Grissom's mouth opened before he could process what he was doing. "I would never tire of you, Sara." Immediately his face blushed with a light pink, and he shifted his gaze out the window.

Sara yawned in spite of the situation. She was not bored with the conversation or the company, but she had barely slept in the previous forty hours. Before letting her hopes get the better of her, hearing Grissom's last admission, she made a flippant remark about it. "Well, apparently I'm tired in general. Working a quadruple will do that to you, unfortunately. I think I'm going to retire back to my hotel room and sleep until shift starts."

"Quadruple? God, Sara, I had no idea. You should have said something to me." His brow creased in frustration at her stubbornness. He knew she had not told him because of his request and hurry to have her respond to the situation.

"I'll be okay after five or six hours of sleep, seriously." She rolled her eyes.

"Take tonight off. Get adjusted to the new environment. Look for a place to stay more permanently – a hotel will get old after a while," he offered.

"I'll be in tonight. I wouldn't want to let the rest of the team think they scared me off. If I'm going to work with them for any length of time, I'll need to make myself part of their lives, fit into the routine. I'll use tomorrow during the day to take care of the necessities."

* * *

Sara found an apartment that would allow her a lease in three-month increments. She assumed that would be sufficient to allow ample time for Grissom to find a replacement. He made no move to do so, which caused Sara to wonder if he was waiting on her to say that she was leaving before he made the effort.

She had gone back to San Francisco briefly on her first couple of consecutive days off to retrieve her car. She collected some of her more personal belongings and boxed everything else up to place it in storage until the time came to go back. The money she made as a CSI paid the bills, but it was nowhere near enough to pay rent on two places just to do a favor for a friend. And, she was still planning on leaving Vegas, so there was no reason to bring everything with her.

It was semi-uncomfortable to not have all of her possessions with her, but she had learned early on to pack light. At some point she knew she would have a sense of normalcy in her life again when she settled back into a permanent job.

She took one entire day to brief another CSI about the cases she had investigated to bring them up to speed for trial. She gave her contact information in Vegas to Ben. She asked to have all of her vacation time cashed in, to which Ben agreed. Sara had acquired about eighteen weeks, never having taken a true vacation. The money would help her with deposits getting settled back in Vegas.

Grissom had always been good at forgetting the small things around him. He detested paperwork with a passion, and, quite possibly, seeing her every day caused him to forget that he had only asked her there temporarily. Sara had never put down roots anywhere for too long, and was never adept at making friends. So, it would be easy to move on when it came time to go back to San Francisco, just as it was to fly to Vegas on a whim.

That was not to say that she had not found friendships at the places she worked, but they were just not the strong friendships she carried with her. She became attached to people, like anyone would, but it had always been a given that people were not an integral part of her life. People lied and cheated and were untrustworthy in general.

It had been slightly over fourteen months after arriving in Vegas when Sara was contemplating her latest case that he considered leaving and going back to San Francisco. She had almost used the word home, but home is only where someone finds comfort. Comfort was something Sara Sidle had not felt in... well, most of her life.

For the first time in a long time, Sara felt alone. Maybe it was the similarities between herself and the victim, Donna Marks in regards to their empty existence. She had no one, and was well aware of that. Her life was her work, and even her apartment reflected that. The night before, even after she purged her home of all the paraphernalia reminding her of her singleness, Sara still felt no better.

Calling Hank had been a momentary lapse in judgment, but it felt good to have some human contact. She was considering calling him to cancel the date. It felt bad to string him along when she was considering leaving town. Well, it was just one date, she had reasoned with herself. She did not find herself really attracted to him, but it might be just the distraction she needed.

Something to get her out of the house, to take her mind off of work. As hard as it was for Sara to admit, he paid more notice to her than Grissom had in the time she had been in Vegas. Hank was not the most astute or the funniest or anything she was interested in, but he had at least shown her some attention. Greg had even shown interest in her, but Sara would not chance ruining that friendship over something she knew would never work.

"Sara?" Grissom asked from behind her before he walked around to sit at his desk.

With her elbows on her knees, Sara's hands cradled her chin. She had sought refuge in Grissom's dark office while waiting on some DNA results from Greg. She had known that Grissom would show up at some point and interrupt her quiet time, but it was still unexpected when he did.

She looked up reluctantly, meeting his eyes halfheartedly. His eyes were warm and comforting. Comforting? Sara felt her world slip a little right at that moment. She finally felt comfort in the eyes of a man who had barely made himself available to her in the months she had been in Vegas.

What had she expected, though? He had only invited her to help him. It had not been like she had been invited to spend the rest of her life with him. It was work, and it most likely always would be. It still did nothing to quell the hope that lived inside her. That hope had festered in her soul for five years until that fateful phone call, and it only proved itself more when she had seen him in person.

He had worked at closing people out of his life. Sara remembered seeing him in San Francisco that first time, and he seemed inherently different. He appeared alive and happy. Their e-mails, the phone calls, they all made him seem so different, so human. After seeing his reactions to some of the cases they had worked, Sara began to question herself and her vision of him.

Sure, he had tried to reach out a few times to her, but it was not a long reach. Grissom had watched Sara cry over a case, and offered her an ear to listen. He offered advice about diversions, and at the time it seemed like he cared. A couple of weeks later Grissom had his own emotional case. He had been affected deeply, but quickly recovered and became distant again.

These were some of the same incidents they had discussed while being physically separated, but being close changed everything. It was hard to reach out to him for some undefined reason when he was within reach. His eyes were sometimes too much to look into.

"Yeah, Grissom?" she asked.

Maybe he felt guilty about putting Warrick in charge while he and Catherine away. Or maybe he felt guilty about not spending as much time with Sara after she had been in Vegas for the first year. Or maybe it was her comment about e-mail. He could not pinpoint the moment he made the choice. It was more like a gradual realization that he was about to lose Sara.

Grissom had been struggling with his emotions being so close to Sara. It was harder to be near her than he believed possible. With the distance between them, he was able to allow her behind his tough veneer. With her here, he was in fear of his world as he knew it crumbling at his feet.

His entire balance was thrown off just knowing she was at hand, but having her close was something he feared losing more. He had to find a way to keep her close and still keep his distance. Grissom knew there was no going back to the remote correspondence because he could not give up seeing her every day. In losing that correspondence, he was also losing his friend.

He thrust out his hand. Sara looked quizzically at what he was holding before raising an eyebrow in question. She remained seated in the visitor's chair, still holding her chin. The thin plastic card in his hand was taunting her.

"I think this is long overdue," he stated flatly, holding his arm outstretched firmly over the top of his desk.

Sara averted her eyes from his hand to his face to the card. She removed her right arm from supporting her head and took the card from Grissom's hand. The picture stared back at her.

"Grissom..."

"I know. It's still your decision. You don't have to choose now. You can take some time to think it over, but I wanted to put the offer on the table. You're an asset to this team and this lab."

"Why now? Why after all this time?" she squeaked out.

Grissom sighed, contemplating his words. "I... I don't really have a good reason for why today. All I can say is that it's something I should've done a long time ago." He looked around the office as if to find some inspiration to tell her what he wanted her to know. His fear was that he would tell her too much. Grissom was desperate.

""I don't know. I just don't know," she stated hesitantly.

"As I said, it's your decision." He paused for a moment, gauging her reaction. "If you're worried about your standing in San Francisco, I'll talk to Ben. You've been an asset to the team, and I don't want to find someone else to work here."

"You haven't tried to find anyone else, have you?"

He sidestepped her question with deliberate ease. "When I called you here, you dropped your life to come to Vegas. I never gave you anything... any stability. You were caught between here and San Francisco – in limbo... It's not fair to leave you in that position. I can offer you this."

Sara stared at the badge as if it held the answers to all of life's riddles. This would be a sense of permanence she had not had since leaving San Francisco. She had been waiting on the other shoe to drop and have Grissom tell her it was time to leave. Instead, he was offering her a permanent place on the night shift with him.

It was ironic how she could be feeling so isolated one minute, only to find out a short while later that Grissom, of all people, was offering her a new family. She wanted to say yes with every ounce of her being, but her head was holding her back. Something in Grissom's delivery of the offer was amiss. She missed what they had before they were on the same team.

It was great to get to work with him. And, when Sara admitted it to herself, it was awesome to get to be around him almost every day. To see the man work and have his guidance was everything she could ask for. The part that held her back was the feeling of loneliness that she felt when she was around him. He was holding part of himself back from her – the part she had had when they were not living in the same city.

One moment he made her feel wanted and needed and valued, while the next moment he caused her to feel like a burden and questioning her own worth. Maybe that was just the part of him that she had never seen before she came to work with him. He had been her equal when they were apart, but in Vegas she was working for him.

"I'll, uh, think about this, okay? Not that I don't appreciate the gesture, but... It's just that a lot of... everything will change if I accept this."

"Nothing will change except the badge that you carry."

And, that idea scared her more than everything changing. If nothing changed, then Grissom would continue down his dark path leading away from her. What concerned her more than that was quite possibly the fact that they could not return to what they had before she came to work for him.

She left his office and the lab, heading home for a night of quiet thought. She barely got through the door of her apartment before the flood of emotions took hold of her. She dropped her bag and keys on the bar and walked to the refrigerator. Grabbing a bottle of water, she slumped against the wall. She pried herself from the wall after a moment's contemplation.

Sara dropped her SFPD Crime Lab badge on the counter and pulled the LVPD one out of her purse to place it beside the other. How different she looked in each picture. Her old one was a distinctly different picture – a much younger and more naïve Sara stared up at her. The new one was sporting her most recent hair and knowingly sad smile. She recognized the picture at once. Two weeks ago, everyone had to go in and update their personnel records. New pictures were taken of all the employees for their replacement badges, and even though Sara was not there officially, HR insisted she get one as well to put in her file.

It had been a briefly sad moment in her life when she watched everyone receive a new badge. She felt like one of the group going in, but felt remorse for her temporary status when she walked out of the room. What a difference a couple of days could make. _Oh, so it is true. Be careful what you wish for. God, I'm falling into clichés now._

She could not go back to the woman she had been a little over a year ago. Too much had happened. She could not go back to the hopeful, yet broken, woman who had waited patiently beside the phone and impatiently waited for her computer to boot up to check her e-mail, hoping for some form of contact from him.

She could now be the woman watching him from across the lab, scrutinizing his every movement, holding onto the hope that he would make some kind of contact with her. She would watch with bated breath to catch a glimpse of him with his guard down, wondering if that was the man she used to know.

Nothing would change; Grissom was right. It was simply because everything had already changed. The moment she agreed to stay in Vegas past finishing her report was the turning point. A line had been crossed, and there was now a wall in its place. There was only one choice to make.

She clipped the LVPD badge on the waistband of her jeans. It was crisp and clean feeling. Almost like a fresh start was awaiting her, even though she knew there was none in sight. She walked around her apartment aimlessly.

Sara surveyed herself in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. Technically, she knew she was the same person as she had been that evening before work, but something felt different. It was looking at herself at that moment that Sara recognized something had changed.

It was not a recent or sudden change by any means. Sara realized that she and Grissom had already changed. They were hardened and molded by the passage of time. They were employee and supervisor, no longer friend and confidant. It was too late to reclaim what they had. Hopefully, Sara looked out onto the horizon for a more prolific future.

It was like looking at herself for the first time.

* * *

The End... or beginning... Well, it's the beginning of the end... erm... the end of the beginning. Oh, never mind, it's the end of this story. Gah! 


End file.
